He sat before his keyboard once again. He was in the mood to concoct another literary journey to share with the community. “What to write about though?” He pondered as he stared at the blank document.
What community would he be sharing his next piece of work with you ask? Why that would be none other than the community of Feedism, a tightly knit subculture revolving around the link of sexual arousal and fat, feeding, and gaining weight.
He was one of those who did not discriminate when it came to weight gain. Whether he was gaining weight or his partner or some stranger, it all excited him. He had never taken the plunge himself, though he longed to. Sitting at a slim 180 lbs and 5’ 11” his faster than average metabolism had thwarted the few attempts he’d made at putting on some weight.
To fill this need he often turned to his writing. On the pages he could live out his fantasies even if reality had made it difficult for him. Here he could get as big as he wanted, impossibly fat even or fatten a willing partner to her hearts content. Hell, everyone in the world could get fat if he so chose. The possibilities were endless and he was happy to have the outlet.
“But what to write about today?” He was feeling inspired, but lacked a subject to “expand” upon. A genre piece? Something set in the bounds of reality? Something magical? He considered the endless options at hand.
“Magic.” He settled on.
“Something fun and quick.” He thought as he started typing.
He often felt like all he needed was a little magic on his side to overcome his persistent metabolism in the real world; just a little extra to help push him over the edge on the journey to obesity.
He started crafting out his protagonist, laying down the bones of his story. His fingers clacked softly over the keys as he did so. This was always the tough part, he took pride in his writing and wanted to have a good narrative set up, but he also just wanted to skip straight to the fun and fattening parts. He pushed down his arousal in favor of the stories integrity. It made it that much better when a story came together and characters could be fully “fleshed out”, rather than a quick couple paragraphs strung together to get off to.
The groundwork laid he got up to grab a glass of water. All this writing had made him parched. Getting up from his office chair, he didn’t notice the small layer of chub that now coated his abdomen. He grabbed the glass of water and returned. It was only when he sat down that something felt off to him. His middle bunched ever so slightly against the comfortable elastic waistband of his athletic shorts.
“What’s this?” he thought confused looking down towards his stomach.
Not fat by any means, maybe 10 lbs, but certainly more than what was there earlier in the day. He poked it to see if it was truly real or if staring at a computer screen late at night had messed with his vision. The soft flesh gave around is poking finger confirming its existence. He immediately grew turned on. He’ never managed to gain so much as a pound and yet here was a very real layer of chub coating his middle.
“How?” Was all he could ask himself as he mulled over his new addition.
He’d done everything like he normally did, ate a normal meal that night, didn’t even have a snack later. He didn’t feel bloated or anything like that, this was just real genuine chub. Unsure of what to do about it he looked up to see the words of the story he’d started. “Might as well use this.” He thought as he channeled his newfound excitement back into his work. His fingers traveled across the keyboard once again with new found energy.
What community would he be sharing his next piece of work with you ask? Why that would be none other than the community of Feedism, a tightly knit subculture revolving around the link of sexual arousal and fat, feeding, and gaining weight.
He was one of those who did not discriminate when it came to weight gain. Whether he was gaining weight or his partner or some stranger, it all excited him. He had never taken the plunge himself, though he longed to. Sitting at a slim 180 lbs and 5’ 11” his faster than average metabolism had thwarted the few attempts he’d made at putting on some weight.
To fill this need he often turned to his writing. On the pages he could live out his fantasies even if reality had made it difficult for him. Here he could get as big as he wanted, impossibly fat even or fatten a willing partner to her hearts content. Hell, everyone in the world could get fat if he so chose. The possibilities were endless and he was happy to have the outlet.
“But what to write about today?” He was feeling inspired, but lacked a subject to “expand” upon. A genre piece? Something set in the bounds of reality? Something magical? He considered the endless options at hand.
“Magic.” He settled on.
“Something fun and quick.” He thought as he started typing.
He often felt like all he needed was a little magic on his side to overcome his persistent metabolism in the real world; just a little extra to help push him over the edge on the journey to obesity.
He started crafting out his protagonist, laying down the bones of his story. His fingers clacked softly over the keys as he did so. This was always the tough part, he took pride in his writing and wanted to have a good narrative set up, but he also just wanted to skip straight to the fun and fattening parts. He pushed down his arousal in favor of the stories integrity. It made it that much better when a story came together and characters could be fully “fleshed out”, rather than a quick couple paragraphs strung together to get off to.
The groundwork laid he got up to grab a glass of water. All this writing had made him parched. Getting up from his office chair, he didn’t notice the small layer of chub that now coated his abdomen. He grabbed the glass of water and returned. It was only when he sat down that something felt off to him. His middle bunched ever so slightly against the comfortable elastic waistband of his athletic shorts.
“What’s this?” he thought confused looking down towards his stomach.
Not fat by any means, maybe 10 lbs, but certainly more than what was there earlier in the day. He poked it to see if it was truly real or if staring at a computer screen late at night had messed with his vision. The soft flesh gave around is poking finger confirming its existence. He immediately grew turned on. He’ never managed to gain so much as a pound and yet here was a very real layer of chub coating his middle.
“How?” Was all he could ask himself as he mulled over his new addition.
He’d done everything like he normally did, ate a normal meal that night, didn’t even have a snack later. He didn’t feel bloated or anything like that, this was just real genuine chub. Unsure of what to do about it he looked up to see the words of the story he’d started. “Might as well use this.” He thought as he channeled his newfound excitement back into his work. His fingers traveled across the keyboard once again with new found energy.
